What am I doing here?
by mis.mira
Summary: Yup. Another girl falls into Narnia...literally...but I promise it'll be good. A bit of romance, adventure and humour...Enjoy!
1. Veet

**Chapter 1- Veet™**

" I can't believe you put Veet in Crystal's hair conditioner!" Rae squealed in excitement, clutching at Sabra's arm.

" She definitely deserved it after what she and her pack of cheerleaders did to Eugenia last week," Sabra replied with a smirk. "The poor girl hasn't shown her face in school since."

"Not to seem out of the loop here," Sabra's bestie, Zack, cut in "But what is 'Veet'?"

" Hair removing cream," Rae supplied "Didn't you hear Crystal scream? Man, I heard her from the library."

" I heard her vowing for vengeance all the way from the football field." Sabra laughed.

Everyone Lewisham College had heard about the debacle and everyone Sabra passed in the halls slapped her high fives or stopped to congratulate her. Sabra acknowledged her growing fame with a winning smile, not feeling even a spot of guilt at what she had done to the captain of the cheerleaders. Even super hot, captain of the tennis team, Ryan Dellmar, had actually noticed her and asked her out to a movie that Saturday. All just because she had given Crystal the payback she deserved. All was good in life today.

Well, until she realised that she had left her amulet back in her locker. Turning back, she told her friends to start walking to the park without her and that she would catch up with them. Twirling her locker dial, she prayed that nothing had happened to the necklace since it was a gift to her from her late grandmother. No such luck. In place of her amulet, there was a single sheet of paper.

_Your necklace for my hair._

_Fair trade, don't you think?_

_If not, meet me at the park._

_ Under the big apple tree._

_ Crystal._

Sabra crushed the piece of paper in her hand and threw it into a nearby bin. Running to catch up with Zack and Rae, she silently cursed herself for being stupid enough to leave a family heirloom in her school locker. As she met up with her friends at the park, she explained what was going on hurriedly, all the while walking as fast as she could towards the apple tree to save her precious.

In front of the tree was a small burnished plaque stamped with jet black letters :

'_This tree was planted by Professor Digory Kirke. In memory of his mother, Mabel Kirke.'_

Sabra did not pay any attention to it having seen it dozens of times before this, choosing to focus her energies on the demon in the shape of a cheerleader who was standing in front of her. Surprisingly, Crystal was only flanked by two cheerleaders instead of the usual two dozen. Sabra smirked at the sight of the huge hat covering her head but frowned when she saw her amulet dangling from Crystal's bony finger; its blood red ruby winked in the sunlight.

"Give that back, cheerleader," Sabra said loudly.

"Why should I?" Crystal sneered.

"Does me adding a black eye to your already wonderful hair sound like a good enough reason?" Sabra threatened.

Crystal scowled but took a few steps backwards.

"If you want it, go get it," she said flinging the necklace high up into the branches of the tree.

Satisfied, she walked away with her flunkies. Sabra sighed and set her school bag down on the ground. She walked up to the tree and tried to look for her amulet. Heaving another sigh, she prepared to climb the tree. Zack and Rae silently agreed to set up watch while she scaled the thing in search of her necklace. Bending her knees, she leaped and caught hold of a branch. Hauling herself upwards, she began her tiring hunt for her amulet among the interlaced branches of the apple tree.

Finally, after about half an hour of searching, Sabra caught sight of her family heirloom as it glinted in an almost friendly way at her. Trying not to look down, since she was a far way from terra firma, Sabra stood up gingerly on a steady branch and tried to reach for the necklace. Grabbing another nearby branch for stability, she stretched herself to the limit. As she felt her hand close over her prized possession, the branch she grasped in her other hand snapped and she was aware of herself falling through the air. The ground came up to meet her.

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When she came to, her head throbbed like the time she had been hit in the head with a cricket bat during p.e.. Looking around, it became clear she wasn't in the park anymore. The apple tree was still above her but the park benches, pavement and, most disturbingly, the people were missing. Instead, there were acres and acres of forest. Sabra breathed in the air and even that seemed different.

Walking around, she stumbled into a clearing._ Dorothy, you ain't in Kansas no more..._ she thought, walking towards a pool of water. She kneeled by the water's edge and peered into its looking glass-like surface. Splashing some water on her face, she tried to straighten out this mess.

"Where am I?" she asked aloud.

She felt a cold blade press into the back of her neck.

"Don't move," a cold voice whispered.

For the second time in as many moments, Sabra felt her consciousness slip away.


	2. Hung Up

**Disclaimer-- **I don't own Narnia or any of its characters; none of whom have actually have appeared yet... but still...

**Author's notes-- **Wow! Four reviews for my first chapter... I don't know what to say... Thank you so much to Child Of The Seine, Spirit Of The Sky, MaskedSoldier and Kei-Ookami.kara.mori.. offers cookie jar... Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter 2 – Hung Up**

She awoke to the sound of a roar. She closed her eyes again. It must have been her brother's stupid Roboraptor roaming the house again. She was _not_ a morning person. Especially when she had fallen out of that tree yesterday.

_Wait a minute,_ she thought,_ I don't have a blanket made out of faux fur. And my bedroom ceiling isn't made out of tent cloth. And...and I did not come home last night... So where am I?_

Willing herself to be calm, Sabra opened her eyes again. She sat up slowly in the midst of a dozen fat, fluffy pillows. Disentangling her feet from her fur blankets, she saw that she remained in the same clothes she wore before she... fell. She was still wearing the dame top, the same jeans, and her feet were still clad in Nike. But why was she here?

"Questions with no answers," she said to herself, looking around.

She found a table with a pitcher of warm water, a basin and a fresh change of clothes on it. After washing her face, she unfolded the clothes left for her. No Way. There was no way she was going to wear that- that thing. How could she wear a ball gown with a full frilly skirt in the middle of the day? If she put it on you wouldn't have been able to distinguish the outline of her body. She wouldn't even wear it to a prom, let alone out in the wilderness. She let out a sound of disgust.

"My lady is there something wrong with the dress?" a voice sounded from the entrance flap of the tent.

Sabra gave a start and turned around. A tall man with greasy looking black hair stood before her.

"Where am I?" she blurted out, before anything else could be said, "And who are you?"

"Of course," the man bowed, "but, perhaps everything could be explained at breakfast?"

The man offered his hand but Sabra hesitated. She did not trust this man, but what other choice did she have? She took his hand and was led to another tent in which breakfast was laid out. She seated herself beside the man and helped herself to some bacon. As she ate, she noticed the strange outfit he was wearing, as well as the fact that he carried a sword.

"Where am I?" she repeated, "Why am I here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he grinned in the exact way a cat did after eating the canary. Sabra definitely did not like him now. "Why would Queen Lucy of Narnia be wandering in the Forbidden Forest?"

The words hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Narnia? I'm in Narnia?" she burst out, "That's not possi- and what did you call me?"

"Queen Lucy."

"Am I unconscious or hallucinating or something?" she burst out "There is NO way I am in Narnia or being mistaken for Lucy. Whom I do not even look like for that matter."

The greasy guy frowned.

"You _are_ Queen Lucy," he told her.

"Whatever you say," she said, expecting to wake up at any moment. "Have you noticed I'm not exactly Lucy's skin colour?" she asked, showing him the back of her dark-skinned hand.

"Perhaps you are trying to trick me," he countered.

"Fine," Sabra gave up, "let us say I am Queen Lucy. What do you want then?"

"Let me introduce myself properly. I am Servos and I am to be the next King of Narnia," he said theatrically, but the effect was lost on Sabra, who just stared at him.

"And you are going to make me king," he continued when he did not get a reaction.

This elicited a response. Sabra sat up a little.

"How?" she asked, "I am not going to name you my successor, even if I were queen."

"You will marry me," he stated simply.

Sabra stood up upon hearing that.

"Never," she spat. "Peter and Edmund would not allow it." _She hoped._

"By the time we are married," Servos told her, "The High King and his brother will be dead. By that time, my army and I would have stormed Cair Paravel and slit both their throats. Then, at my victory ceremony, you and I shall wed."

"Dream on, creep." she said as she turned to walk out of the tent.

Servos grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. Sabra struggled to get out of his grasp but he was too strong.

"If I were you, I would be nice to your future king and husband," he told her, "Maybe I'll spare your brothers."

"If I were you," Sabra spat, "I would go wash that greasy head of mine."

Servos pulled his hand back, as if to slap her, but seemed to change his mind. He snapped his fingers. A minotaur came into the tent. Servos pushed Sabra roughly towards him.

"Bane," Servos said, the creature snapped to attention, "Show to our queen how we treat uncooperativeness."

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This was not how she had pictured herself, if she ever did come to Narnia. She just didn't see it coming; that she would be hanging upside down, by her ankles, from a tree._ This is all just a dream, _she told herself. However, if it was, why was it taking so long for it to end?

Feeling the blood rush to her head, Sabra wondered if it actually could be true. That she was actually _in_ Narnia. She certainly never had dreams as vivid or as painful as this one. As she crossed her arms over her chest to stop her shirt from slipping over her head, she tried to ignore the rope that was biting into her ankles. Hours and hours went by and Sabra started to get thirsty, and as it started to become dark, she became cold too.

She did not notice when she fell asleep, but she awoke when she heard a commotion in the direction of the camp. Listening hard, she heard the clashing of swords and shields. Deciding to throw caution to the winds, Sabra screamed with all her might, hoping that someone would hear her. When she noticed that there were a few urgent sounding voices coming closer towards her, she shrieked even louder.

"Over here!" she yelled.

In the dim light provided by the moon, she saw a squirrel scuttle up the branch she was hanging from. Praying that it was a talking squirrel, she begged it to help her. By that time, the urgent voices were right beneath her. The squirrel started to gnaw at the ropes at her ankle.

"Help me!" she screamed at the men below.

Then, all of a sudden, the rope holding her up snapped and she fell. Thankfully, she lost consciousness before she hit the ground.


	3. Why can't I be a Mary Sue?

Sabra flitted between consciousness and unconsciousness, thanks to the bruises to her head from both her falls. She was dimly aware that she was seated on a horse and was supported by an arm around her. She leaned back on the rider's shoulder and for the first time since she had arrived in Narnia, she felt safe.

Sabra woke up feeling as if she had been thrown of a cliff and then picked up and thrown down another cliff. She stared at the peaked roof above her and slowly realised that she was in yet another tent. She tried to think but, _ugh_, even thinking hurt.

_Why can't I be a Mary Sue like all the other girls who have fallen into magical worlds?_ she thought. Even though she had always bagged MarySues, she now came to see that if she were one, she would not have: 1) fallen out of the apple tree on her head, 2) gotten engaged to a lunatic whose dream was to kill Narnia's kings, and 3) been strung upside down by her heels.

"Ngh," Sabra said, testing out her verbal skills to see if they could still function. Nope, still not working.

Unbending the fingers of her right palm, she realised that she was still holding her amulet. Moving slowly as to avoid more aches and pains than necessary, Sabra fastened it around her neck. Beyond the curtains of the four-poster bed she lay on, she heard the slight rustle of feet, a dull thunk, and then the sound of water being poured into a basin. Then, after a little more rustling, everything was silent.

Something pushed her curtains aside. She turned her head (ow! ow! ow!) and saw that it was a tiger. Beyond it, there was a tub in the middle of the tent filled with hot water. She could see the steam rising from it.

"My lady," she said, bowing her head slightly, "My name is Kara and I shall be here to take care of your every need. The High King would like to meet with you as soon as you are ready".

Sabra sat up so suddenly, she swore she could hear all her muscles scream in protest. _The High King? _She ignored the pain and looked closely at Kara, who was already at the entrance of the tent, ushering in a dwarf holding a tray piled high with breakfast.

"Kara," she whispered. The tiger moved towards her. "Is this all a dream?"

"According to my experience, my lady," she said, "If it hurts, then it isn't a dream. I will leave you to your bath and breakfast."

"Kara," she called the tiger back, "My name is Sabra."

"My lady." Kara backed out of the tent.

Sabra stripped and climbed carefully into the scalding water. The heat of it seemed to melt away all her pain and worries. Someone had also placed wildflowers in the hot water, which made the scent of the flowers fill the tent. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, and submerged her head underwater. Only when she had no breath left did she resurface.

She climbed out, dried herself with a towel, and put on the clothes that were left for her. It was a beautiful silken dress, so soft it seemed to flow like water; the colour was a beautiful burgundy and it was embroidered with an intricate leaf design. Much better than that monstrosity Servos had given her to wear. There was also a comb and a silver disk laid out for her. Sabra combed out her long, wet hair, slowly, and then picked up the silver disk to look at herself.

She gasped, almost dropping the mirror. She almost couldn't recognize herself; the huge zit she had managed to conceal all that week had simply disappeared and her face just seemed... different. Calmer, more tranquil and somehow more composed. Perhaps it was the inevitable Mary Sue-dom working its magic. Finally.

Sabra picked up a piece of fruit from a bowl on the tray and started eating it. She tried to compose her thoughts since she was going to meet Peter in a short while. It didn't work but it never had before, so she didn't fret about it. Maybe her Mary Sue powers hadn't fully grown yet. If she had any. Before she noticed, she had finished the bowl of fruit and some kind of invisible force was propelling her towards the entrance of her tent. Kara was waiting for her.

"Follow me, my lady," she said softly.

Sabra did as she was told; feeling nervous, elated and a little scared all at the same time. She could hear noises coming from the main part of the camp but Kara steered her away from it and they did not meet anyone. They reached another tent and Kara paused outside. Sabra swept pass her and entered the pavilion. The two men inside stood up when she came in.

Sabra stifled a gasp. Peter and Edmund. They looked slightly older than when they had battled the white witch, but still, she could recognize them. She greeted them solemnly and took a seat at the table they were sitting at before she had come in.

"Lady Sabra," Edmund said, "Welcome to Narnia."

"Tell us," Peter continued, "Where do you come from and what brings you here?"

Sabra took a deep breath and launched into a detailed account of what had happened during the past two days. The kings remained silent, listening to her story with full attention. They didn't even flinch when she told them of Servos' desire to slit their throats. Only when she was finished did they start to ask questions, like how many men Servos had and did he let slip when he was planning to attack. She told them that she was kept away from the rest of the camp and that Servos was careful enough not to tell her anything besides her fate.

"What I want to know is how he could mistake you for Lucy?" Peter mused, "You two look nothing alike, and although Lucy_ has_ grown up, it is still obvious that you are closer to my age than hers."

"Well," Edmund cut in, "He has never seen Lu before has he?"

"I have a few questions, myself," Sabra interrupted, "What am I going to do here?"

"Forgive us, lady," Edmund apologized.

"Aslan's will has not yet become clear," Peter said, "Maybe you should stay with the camp and then return with us to Cair Paravel until then."

Sabra nodded. There really nothing she could do until then. Nevertheless, what about her date with Ryan Dellmar? Peter must have seen her expression because he asked what was wrong. She just shook her head.

"Perhaps you would like to ride for awhile to clear your mind?" Edmund suggested.

"Splendid idea, Edmund," Peter exclaimed, " But first, I think you should send a message to Susan and Lucy at the Lonely Isles and tell them to return home immediately, just in case Servos realizes that Sabra really isn't Lucy."

Edmund nodded and left without delay. Peter led Sabra outside. Kara was sitting just a stone's throw away from the tent entrance. The tigress stood and approached them.

"Kara," Peter said, "Could you get Lady Sabra a pair of boots, please, while I go find her a horse."

Kara nodded and Sabra left with her. She was led back to her tent and Kara left to find her a pair. Soon, a dwarf returned with a pair, handed them to her, bowed, and then left. She tugged them on quickly and went back outside. This time Kara led her to a small clearing where Edmund and Peter were already waiting for her. Peter led a tall, dark, dapple-grey stallion towards her and introduced him as Andrew.

Sabra mounted Andrew and soon the six of them were off into the woods. It felt good to sit on a horse again, as the last time she had ridden one was last year, on her grandfather's estate. . The sun shone on Andrew's coat and it seemed to shimmer like mercury- such a beautiful sight. With a gentle nudge of her heels, he moved into the most graceful and smooth trot she had ever ridden.

After a few minutes, it seemed that Andrew wasn't happy at just a canter. With a whinny and a toss of his head, he broke into a gallop. The kings laughed and gave chase. Sabra wasn't a world-class rider and in her state, she hadn't the strength to grip the horse and as a result her brains jolted in the head. Trees flew by in a blur as he dodged through the forest at an incredible pace.

"Stop!" she screamed.

Andrew slowed down. Edmund and Peter caught up with her as Andrew apologized profusely for doing what he did, not knowing that she was not in a state to go too fast. Sabra was about to stop him from apologizing even further when they heard the blare of a horn. Both kings looked up immediately. Edmund and his horse, Philip, turned around and headed back for the camp. Peter echoed his movements but shouted to her to stay put and that she was not to return to the camp until he came to get her.

As soon as Peter was out of sight, Sabra nudged Andrew with her heel.

"Let's go, Andrew," she urged.

"But lady," Andrew protested, "the king said—"

"Look Andrew, I have never obeyed anyone's orders and I do not intend to start now. If you do not take me, I will walk."

"But you are too weak to get into a fight, Lady," Andrew reasoned.

"Just take me to the fringes of the camp, Andrew, and I won't get into any fights," Sabra lied.

"Very well."

It took them longer to reach the camp on the way back, the reason being that Andrew insisted on going at a trot because of her weakened state. Sabra dismounted and walked stealthily towards the camp, ignoring a disapproving whinny from Andrew.

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A/N: Thankies for all the lovely reviews (throws flowers and such) If anyone wants to be Edmund's love interest, please let me know. Child of the Seine has already offered, but i thought it would be nice to ask anyway. If anyone has any suggestions I'm wide open.


	4. Arrows are painful

**Disclaimer-**I haven't posted one of this ever and no hoard of lawyers have bore down on me brandishing their suitcases. I probably won't disclaim anymore, unless I hear the sound of overhead helicopters and people breaking down my door.

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Sabra crept as stealthily as she could towards camp. Hearing Andrew's disapproving snort, she glanced back at him, putting a finger over her lips. Before she vanished from his view, Sabra saw him put his ears back. She supposed it was his way of wordlessly telling her to be careful. Turning back towards the campsite, she found it deserted, though she could hear the sounds of swords clashing in the background.

Looking around, she didn't see even a single sword. That suited her just fine since she couldn't use one anyway. Instead, she found a bow, a quiver full of arrows and an evil looking dagger. Okay, these she could use. She also kilted her skirts so that it wouldn't hinder her if she had to run. Hearing cries of pain, she quickly strapped the dagger to her boot and fixed the quiver to her back. She fitted an arrow onto her bowstring.

Sabra rushed towards the sounds of clashing and shouting and as she turned the corner, she paused involuntarily. Nothing she had seen before could have prepared her for this, not even, what she had seen at the movies. Mouth wide open, she stared at the Narnians battling Servos' men until her Sue-ish powers took over and she pulled the arrow back, aimed, and released it. The arrow embedded itself in a Satyr's skull and it fell to the ground. For good measure, she shot a few more arrows at the enemy, watching them drop like flies. With this group of enemies dispatched, the Narnians separated, going in different directions in search of their comrades who were in need.

Sabra decided to do the same, ran forwards until she hit another group of battling foes. She caught a glimpse of Edmund slashing his sword at oncoming adversaries. Deciding that this group of Narnians were doing fine and did not need her help because of the reinforcements, she pressed on. Rounding another corner, she found Peter. He was fighting two people at once, both Servos and his lackey. Her blood boiled at the unfairness. Grabbing another arrow, she aimed for the lackey but paused upon catching sight of an enemy archer aiming a crossbow at Peter.

"Coward!" she screamed, shooting the archer down, but it was too late.

In the split second that it took her to change targets, the crossbow quarrel had embedded itself in the High King's right arm. He cried out and dropped his sword. Sabra shot down Servos' lackey, which distracted Servos long enough for Peter to pick up his sword in his left hand. Sabra reached back for another arrow only to find her quiver empty. She swore in an unladylike fashion and dropped her bow. The Mary Sue part of her had just decided to do something extremely stupid.

Servos had knocked Peter's sword out of his hand and was preparing for the final blow. Pulling out her dagger, she ran towards Servos at ramming speed and knocked him off his feet. This was good for Peter but bad for her, for now Servos was advancing on her. He grabbed her wrist once again, but this time she was ready for him and drove the heel of the palm into his nose. His grip on her arm lessened and she snatched it away from him.

Knowing that that would only stop him for a few seconds, Sabra hurried to Peter's side. While helping him up, she screamed out Andrew's name. Servos had picked up his sword and was advancing on them. "Andrew!" Leaving Peter propped up by his sword, Sabra turned back to face the despicable character behind her, brandishing her dagger. Servos broke into a storm of evil laughter.

"You're not serious, are you?" he roared.

"Deadly serious," she hissed.

Just then, she heard the thundering of hooves coming towards them. Servos took in the sight of Andrew bearing down on them, raised his sword, and moved towards her. Sabra swung her dagger in an arc, feeling in connect with his face. With a cry, Servos fell to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, she speedily helped Peter onto Andrew and vaulted on, herself. Spurring Andrew on, she led them away from the camp.

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It was hours until Andrew showed signs of slowing down. Sabra called out for him to stop, and ten strides later, a sweaty horse and its shaken riders had arrived at a small clearing. She clambered off the horse with as much grace as a rock and the proceeded to help Peter off. He swayed a little. Sabra proceeded to strip Andrew of all his tack, and when he protested, she told him to stuff it (in the most polite manner, of course).

"You have to go get help, Andrew," she said in an urgent voice, "And if our enemies catch you, pretend that you're a pretty horsey that's just nancing around."

Andrew grimaced (as best as a horse _could_ grimace) but galloped away nevertheless, leaving an injured king and an increasingly panicky girl.

"We must help the others," Peter panted weakly. He was obviously in a great deal of pain.

"No. First, I must tend to that arrow stuck in your arm," she said sharply, pushing down so that he sat down against a tree stump. Sabra looked at the wound, Peter watching her patiently. She'd never removed an arrow from a wound before and told him so.

"I have. You'll have to just pull it out," he said.

She nodded, took hold of the arrow firmly, and yanked as hard as she could. The arrow came out of his shoulder with a soft, nauseating noise. He muffled a cry and fell forward slightly, face pale. Sabra caught him and pushed him back.

"Are you all right?" she asked worried. He nodded and managed a weak smile.

"Good." she looked at the blood spilling from the hole in his arm. "Now I have to wrap it."

Peter nodded and pulled his tunic off revealing a muscular body and a slightly hairy chest. The blood rushed to her face. Realizing she had no bandages, she tore about six inches off the bottom of her dress. Trying to appear professional and desperately not to stare, she began to wrap the arm area up with the strip of cloth. He stared her straight in the face the whole time with an unfathomable expression on his face. She tried her hardest not to blush.

"There, it's finished."

"Thank you."

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By nightfall, Sabra had gotten a fire going by striking two flint stones together, as Peter had shown her. She had also rummaged through Andrew's saddlebag and found some food and a water skin. After they had eaten, Peter dropped off pretty quickly. Sabra stared at the small fire, with her back to the tree stump, thinking about the day's happenings. _She had killed people._ She looked at her hands, realizing the gravity of the situation. Her inner voice tried to tell her that it was in self-defense, but she chose not to listen. She watched the flames dance until she drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, she awoke to find the High King missing. Looking around in a panic, she called out his name and he emerged from behind a tree carrying a load of dry branches. After dropping them beside last night's fire, he proceeded to thank her for saving his life. Waving it aside, she started to rummage through the saddlebag in search of a piece of twine to tie her hair back. As she swept her raven tresses of her face, she asked him why he didn't appear to have any qualms over killing.

"Out here its kill or be killed, lady," he explained, "And don't regret it because you saved my life."

She wasn't satisfied with the answer but fell quiet anyway at the sound of hoof beats coming towards them.

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A/N-- Ha-ha! Aren't I evil? Yet another cliffy! (Trails off in psychotic evil laughter)

And there is also a long overdue thank you to my sister all-knowing alien, (more like unknowing) for beta-ing all my chapters. (Sigh) Thank you (In suffering voice).


	5. I don't wanna be a Mary Sue

**A/N**--Thank you to all reviewers, it really means a lot to me that you've taken the time to read this through and told me what you thought. And also to the clichebusters who have led me away from the Mary Sue light at the end of the tunnel. I baked a batch of cyber cookies just for you guys (hands them out).

And to those who read without read without reviewing…be warned. I shall smite you with my mighty…um…smiter…as soon as I find it of course….(throws stuff around looking for it). Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**-- Crack the code and get a free, hot-looking centaur, or a toaster! kcab reh noseh to lce htyl no. g niht ynan woton seo dar im sim.

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No amount of preparation would have readied Sabra for what burst out of the forest and into the clearing. It was not man or horse, but both; a centaur. Although she had seen them in drawings and movies, none had done them justice. The being that stood before her was tall and majestic. He blew into the horn he carried on a leather strap; its blare sounding over the treetops and corresponding shouts could be heard not so far away.

"Orieus," Peter greeted, making his way towards the centaur.

A large group of Narnians made their way into the clearing, making a circle around their king. He then proceeded to make one of those long winded speeches kings always made, the type she always avoided listening to if she could help it, so she began backing away, silently. A feat next to impossible back home, on account of her platypus-like flipper feet. Her brain registered this fact and the uneasiness she felt grew as she settled down to wait for Peter to finish his pep talk.

After awhile, Kara found her and led her to a small, changing tent, which was essentially made up of three tapestries strung up to offer her a little modesty while she slipped into some riding clothes. As the makeshift tent was being taken down, Sabra was reintroduced to Andrew, who she threw her arms around and planted a kiss on his nose. Andrew snorted embarrassedly. He told her that it had been announced that they were to return to Cair Paravel immediately and that she was to ride up front with the king. She nodded.

The group traveled at a slow pace to compensate for King Peter's injury, and this gave Edmund, Peter _and_ Orieus enough time to bombard her with questions. Where was she from? How did she come to be here? How did she know how to use a bow and arrow? She struggled to come up with answers with the first two (should she tell the truth or make up some story?), and so decided to answer the third. Even as she came up with a response, something inside her just clicked. She froze in her saddle.Her little adventure over the past few days were unsettlingly familiar, they sounded like the stories her friend Faye had made her read some time ago. What were they called...Fan fiction?

Edmund noticed her horrified expression and asked her what was wrong. Sabra ignored him, instead focusing on her thoughts. Recalling what had happened over the last few days, she came to realise more and more that it was true. So far, she had been abducted by the bad guy, rescued by the good guys, fired an arrow accurately when before this she barely grazed the target _board_, her hair was perfect and _worst_ of all, she had fallen in love with the stud muffin of the chronicles.

"Lady?" Andrew asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"Forgive me," she said, "I do not feel so well."

They refrained from asking her any more questions and decided to break camp early for her benefit.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

During the remainder of the ride back to Cair Paravel, Sabra managed to evade all questions about herself with a smokescreen of random questions aimed at the (for lack of a better word) questioner. There was once Peter had almost cornered her to the point where she was on the verge of spilling everything, when Orieus, who had come bearing a message from the two queens, rescued her in the nick of time. As she exhaled in relief, she eavesdropped on the conversation going on between the two kings and the centaur, learning that they were to reach Glasswater Creek by nightfall and meet Susan and Lucy there before carrying on to Cair Paravel.

Sabra had read the Chronicles of Narnia some time ago, when she had received them as a gift from her uncle and found she could visualize the maps of Narnia. In her mind's eye, she could see their exact position. This only increased her uneasiness over the whole Mary Sue issue, but pushing those thoughts aside, she could feel the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. By the time the sun dipped low, she could see the sea on the horizon, shimmering in the evening sunlight, and she was in a good mood. When one of the kings pointed out to her that their camp was only a little way away, she had challenged both of them to a race and sped off, urging Andrew forward.

With the element of surprise, they sprang forward, Andrew galloping hard. After recovering from their initial shock, both Peter and Edmund spurred their own mounts forward. At that speed, her hair streamed out behind her like a banner and the wind made her eyes water. At that very moment, she felt carefree and lighthearted, unlike she had ever felt before. Philip was gaining on them; his head was parallel to Andrew's hind legs, as was Peter's unicorn, to her left. All three of them hurtled into the camp at high speed and came to a halt in front of the largest tent. As they dismounted, she noticed that the horses' nostrils showed red. Sabra let out a loud laugh of exhilaration that echoed around the camp.

That night she was introduced to both Susan and Lucy. They looked slightly different to the girls who had played them in the movies but she could tell whom they were when they had disembarked at Glasswater. There was also an extremely beautiful woman with them, and she introduced herself as Alice. Out of the corner of her eye, Sabra could see Edmund practically staring at the lady. When they returned to camp, a large bonfire was lit and they sat at the entrance of the large tent listening to stories and songs by the men. Presently, naiads, dryads, and fauns came out of the forests and began to dance around the fire to the haunting music of the fauns' pipes. The queens and Edmund were whisked away to dance almost immediately, but Peter stood, paused and extended his hand out to her.

"Would you honor me with this dance, Lady?" he inquired.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. No way. I cannot fall in love with a recognizable character or vice versa,_ she told herself. _Look away, Sabra, away from those hypnotic eyes. Look away! Just say no!_

"Lady Sabra?"

_No, no, no, no, no. NO!_

"Of course," she replied with a smile, taking his hand and they danced.

_GODAMMIT, Sabra!_


	6. Perish in fire and water

**(A/N): **Hey, all! (Ducks as rotten fruits, eggs and vegetables are thrown at her). I am SO sorry I took this long to update... but I have just returned to New Zealand and it took me two weeks to settle so... heheh... and I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit, well, all over the place, but I have no excuse for that... but I have just baked a banana cake so once I figure out how to fit it into the CD tray, you'll all get a piece:). And not to sound discontented or anything, but I have some people who have me on their faves but don't review (hint, hint). But don't let me keep you guys... Enjoy! (I hope)...(starts cramming slices of banana cake into CD tray)

**Disclaimer:** Shhh! Can you hear that? It's C.S.Lewis rolling around in his grave because I've decided to update this fic. So, I OBVIOUSLY don't own this stuff.

Peter swung her around and around until she became dizzy, and her laughter rung clear around the camp. After first dance was over, she was passed around to the next dancer; from Edmund to Lucy, from Susan to a dryad, and so forth, until she lost count of how many dances she danced around the fire and with how many partners. When the High King had reclaimed her hand for one last dance, the bonfire they had been dancing around that night had diminished in size and the moths fluttered about among the embers that rose from the fire. As he twirled her about to the sweet pipe music, she looked up into his eyes, and for a moment, was lost in them. Sabra smiled a dreamy smile not noticing that the hem of her dress had brushed the edge of the fire.

In fact, she only perceived the fact when the flames had climbed up the side of her dress and licked her left leg. The intense pain caused all thoughts to abandon her mind; she screamed, that too echoing around like her laugh had. Suddenly, a single memory popped into her head; she had a brief glimpse of her Year Five P.E. Class, when Mrs. Savory had taught them to "Stop, drop and roll" if they ever caught fire. So that was what she did. She stopped running around like a mad hen, dropped to the ground, and rolled as if there was no tomorrow. Her actions had effectively put out the fire, but now, her left leg was burnt and she was covered from head to toe with dirt.

_Well, it is a lot better than being burnt alive, thank you,_ said the little voice in her head.

As she looked around, she became aware that the fauns had stopped playing their flutes and that everyone was staring at her. Despite the pain, she felt her cheeks redden at all the attention she was getting. The deafening silence was becoming quite unbearable, when Peter stooped down, scooped her up, and carried her back to her tent. How he knew where that was, she did not ask, but as soon as she was set down on the pillows, Susan and Lucy burst into the tent, the latter holding a crystal flask. Susan delicately lifted her dress to expose Sabra's leg, taking care so as not to brush the burns, while Lucy lifted the stopper off the flask and let a single drop of its contents fall onto Sabra's wounds. Her expression of pain gave way to one of astonishment as she felt her pain fade away to mere memory.

"How?" she asked, in amazement.

Lucy opened her mouth to explain, when someone, a faun, entered the tent bearing a tray. Thanking him, Susan lifted a cup from the tray and handed it to Sabra.

"It is a soothing drink, it will help you calm down after what just happened," she explained, catching Sabra's questioning look. "And that-" she gestured towards Lucy's flask, "-is a cordial, made from the juice of a fire flower. It is a restorative, as you have just seen."

" But you should drink that now and get some sleep, for we are to depart for Cair Paravel quite early tomorrow. Good night." Lucy interrupted, smiling and backed out of the tent with her sister behind her.

Sabra sniffed the drink and finding that it smelt a bit like the sickly sweet tea her mum used to serve, she pinched her nose and downed it in three gulps. Almost immediately, she felt a warm, drowsy feeling flood her body. Obedient to both Lucy and the drink, she drifted off to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_She knew she was dreaming. She was dancing in the middle of a forest; probably a Narnian forest for she could recognize most of the trees. Her dancing partner was none other than the High King. He spun her around in the same way he had earlier that evening, but this time there was no one else. At the end of the dance, he pulled her closer towards him, their lips only a few centimeters away. Sabra, knowing perfectly well that it was just a dream, leaned forward. After all, it was only a figment of her overactive imagination. What could possibly happen?_

_The instant their lips touched, her head started throbbing. She pulled away from Peter, her mind registering his expression of shock and fear. But his eyes weren't on her. Sabra turned. The forest was on fire, and she could hear a voice echoing throughout the blazing forest._

"_-And all of Narnia shall be overturned and perish in fire and water."_

_She turned to face Peter but he was not there. In his place stood a lion, majestic and regal. Aslan. _

" _What do you want from me?" she screamed at the highest of high kings. "What am I doing here?"_

_Instead of answering her, the lion faded from view. Water rained down from the sky, quenching the fires. But even though the fires were put out, the water still fell. Sabra tried to get out of there, but she was rooted to the spot. The water rose higher, to ankle height, then to her knees. Soon it rose higher than her chest and before long she was drowning. She tried to scream underwater and water rushed in and filled her lungs. _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sabra woke up, her throat hoarse as if she had been screaming. A pair of strong hands grasped her shoulders (Three guesses, who that was).

"Lady," Peter said, shaking her slightly, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Sabra sat up and instinctively clutched her pendant, for it was a source of comfort to her. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

She looked up and become conscious of how close his face was to hers. Uncalled for, her blood rushed to her cheeks. In the dimness of the candle illuminated tent, Peter grinned. That surprised her._ Wasn't he supposed to be the proper, courteous, and chivalrous sort of person?_

"To what do I owe that charming blush of yours, lady?" he asked softly.

For a fleeting second, she thought of leaning forward but then, all of a sudden, images of her dream flashed before her eyes. She assumed that it was some type of warning not to engage in a romantic relationship with the High King (a collective chorus of assent from thousands of fan girls could be heard). _Sheesh. _Whoever it was worrying unnecessarily. She had already promised herself not to fall for a book recognizable character. The falling of breath on her cheek jolted her back to reality. _Wait a minute. Was this even reality? She had known the king for all of about a week or so, and now he wanted to kiss her? This could not be real. _Their lips were about to meet-

"-And all of Narnia shall be overturned and perish in fire and water," she whispered.


	7. Meet Stubby

**(A/N) **Elo, everyone! I'm back…I am sooo happy… they've started shooting the new Narnia movie…WOOT! Happy, happy, happy…anyway, thanks to all the reviewers who, well umm… reviewed. I had sixty reviews for six chapters, cool…happy, happy…It gave me warm, fuzzies. The only other time that happens is when I watch my stick thin sister try on her old clothes that don't fit her anymore...muahaha…(rubs hands gleefully)…Back to now, though, enjoy! And review please ;)

**Disclaimer:**

mis.mira: (sobs uncontrollably because she doesn't own Narnia)

Edmund: Umm…could you not do that? You're flooding Narnia.

M: (Doesn't stop) Just say it, okay.

E: Okay; mis.mira doesn't own anything, except Sabra, Stubby and other made up characters.

Reepicheep: (rows by in his coracle)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Instead of leaning forwards to kiss him, Sabra jerked her head backwards.

"Forgive me, sire," she said loudly and hollowly, "I did not mean to awaken you."

Peter seemed not to notice. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. It took all of her will power not to give in to the kiss. She pulled away, the picture of the golden lion from her dream dancing about in her mind's eye. Peter looked into her eyes, puzzled, and then he stiffened. He straightened up slowly, and to Sabra, it seemed as if, in those few seconds, he had transformed from the boy who had just kissed her, to the High King of Narnia in all his regal glory. She felt like reaching up and touching his face, just to see if she could feel the invisible mask he seemed to be wearing. Peter made a little bow.

"No." His voice had also seemed to have changed into a more majestic one, even if it did have a slightly injured tone. "It is I, who should be apologizing, lady. For my intrusion during this unearthly hour."

Sabra could see his cheeks take on a reddish hue as he walked out of her tent, but her mind pushed that aside, as it tended to the more pressing issues at hand. She had gathered that an intimate connection between her and the High King was not meant to be, and would most probably corrode the fabrics that held Narnia together, like the voice had suggested in her dream. She thought about all those times she had read the chronicles, when she was happy or sad, and realized that she would not allow that to happen.

She had to get out of there, of that, she was certain. If she could steer clear of him, perhaps the whole problem could be fixed. The king would move on and find some one else, while she would be free to, well, to do whatever she wanted to do. Picking up a stub of a candle that was set on the table beside her bed, she scrabbled around in one of the many chests in the tent until she found what she was looking for; parchment paper, some ink and a quill. Setting the candle back down again, she unscrewed the inkbottle, dipped the quill into the dark, liquid, and started to write.

Using a quill proved harder than it seemed, but she had managed to scribble a short message amid all the splatters of ink, which were a byproduct of her writing. Satisfied, she signed at the bottom of the page, folded it in half, and placed the missive under the inkbottle. As she slipped her feet into a pair of well-fitting boots, she saw the dagger she had used in the skirmish against Servos on the little table, beside the candle stub (she had decided to call it Stubby). The jewels embedded in the dagger seemed to wink at her in Stubby's flickering light; she grabbed it and slid it into the little pocket in her boot that was made for that purpose.

Before leaving the tent, Sabra grabbed Stubby, knowing if she didn't take him along, she would not be able to walk all the way to where the horses were kept without stumbling on something or the other. She cast one last look around the tent before exiting through its entrance. Sabra had managed to locate Andrew, tack him up, and lead him away from the other sleeping horses before he noticed what was going on. When he did come to his senses, however, he dug his hooves into the ground and refused to budge, even when she yanked on his reins.

"Come on, Andrew," she whispered desperately, hoping he wouldn't make any noise, "I must get away from here."

"But my lady-," he said in a loud, sleepy voice, "-it is not yet dawn."

Sabra hastily clamped her hands over his mouth.

"I know that, Andrew. Now, come on." She pulled harder on his rains. Andrew did not budge. "I'll explain later," she added, hoping that that would make him move.

"What about the dangers in the forest, lady? Think about the risks. You might die."

"In order to die, you have to live a little first, Andrew," she retorted, getting annoyed. "Look, if you don't want to help, I can walk."

And she stormed off into the forest, Stubby in hand. After a few minute of walking, she heard a horse-like sigh from behind her. Whirling around, she was not surprised to see Andrew standing there, looking as sheepish as a horse could. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his forehead.

"You've decided to join us?" she asked.

"Us?" Andrew looked around.

Sabra held her candle up in front or his face.

"Meet Stubby."

Andrew just snorted. Sabra mounted him, careful not to burn him with Stubby. She then proceeded to tell Andrew about her dream, and of the High King. The horse listened carefully, never once interrupting her, and the only thing he did, besides walk slowly, was to occasionally swat the air with his tail.

"So what do we do now, lady?' he asked when she was finished.

"Ah, my dear Andrew, we are going somewhere Peter wouldn't think of looking," she said in a falsely confident voice. "At least I think so. And don't say I don't know where I'm going, I've studied some of the kings' maps and I have a sketch and a compass with me. So, no worries."

"I think anybody would be worried if they rode with a lady who gave her candles names, my lady." Andrew said in a serious voice.

She poked him.

"Don't call me a lady, Andrew. I'm not."

"Of course not, my lady."

She poked him again.

"I mean, of course not, Sabra."

"That's much better," she said in a smug voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A few hours later, the first rays of the sun touched the tips of the tents of the Narnian camp. Kara was making her way towards Sabra's tent, when suddenly, her whiskers twitched involuntarily. _That's strange. _Her mother had always told her that it was a sign, the twitch._ Suppositious nonsense._ The tigress shook her head, dismissing the thought, and then entered the tent.

"Lady, we must leave soon for Cair Paravel," she called out.

No answer. Perhaps she was still asleep. Kara walked towards the bed and poked gently at the bundle wrapped in sheets. No movement.

"My lady, you must get-"

She had swatted the sheets aside to find – nothing. Eyes widening, she ran out of the tent to get the king. In a few minutes, the royal family of Narnia burst into Sabra's tent. Lucy and Susan were questioning Kara, Edmund was looking around the place, while Peter just stood there, his face impassive, not even moving when Edmund announced that he had found a note from Sabra. The two queens rushed to the younger king, urging him to read it. Edmund glanced at Peter, who nodded, before commencing.

"_Please forgive me for doing this_," Edmund began, "_but there is no other way. I need to make myself scarce for a while, so please do not come looking for me. Thank you all for your hospitality, and I promise you all that I will be safe. Sabra_."


	8. Meeting Zack

**(A/N) **No, you are not hallucinating! _This is a real update!_ Hoo-bloody-ray!

Thankies for all the reviews! I know I have been such a lazy ass recently. I do not really have an excuse either. I have had plenty of time to write but I just have not had the motivation. Everything is sweet now…and if those invisible readers could pop in with a few words, that would be great. Anyways. Thanks to all my reviewers and readers - please review! Even if you don't, just for reading this, you all get mini Rhindon look-alikes.

**Disclaimer-**This disclaimer has been cancelled due to the fact that Peter and Edmund are hiding under the bed after hearing the screams of rabid fan girls and the rest of my characters are trying to coax them out.

* * *

Sabra closed her eyes, watching images play across the inside of her eyelids. Her clothes were still damp from the time she had dismounted to help Andrew across the Winding Arrow river. By now, it was already daytime and Stubby had been safely stowed away in one of the saddlebags. She thought about what she'd be doing if she was back home; probably being bugged by her mother to get out of bed and then, her little brother would be summoned to wake her up by any means possible. Knowing him, it would probably involve cymbals, icy cold water, and a video camera. Sabra smiled slightly. The rhythmic shifting of Andrew's saddle was soothing, rocking her to sleep, and she dreamt of home and friends.

Suddenly she felt as if she was falling through the air and upon opening her eyes, she found out that she truly was falling and braced herself for her impact with the forest floor. She hit the ground with a grunt, landing on her posterior even though she had been given horse-riding lessons and had been thought how to land on her feet. She groaned, trying to pull herself up with the aid of Andrew, her now aching backside joined her sore thighs.

"Alright, Andrew," she gasped. "Let's stop and rest for awhile. After all, we've been riding non-stop for two days and have probably just passed out of Archenland."

Andrew whinnied in assent and Sabra proceeded to strip him of his tack, rubbed him down, and then produced an apple out of a saddlebag for him to eat. Listening to the crunching noises that were strangely comforting, she settled back on the ground, taking care to favour the sore parts of her body. Closing her eyes again, she saw, yet again, her family and friends, and she thought about how much she missed them. Sabra drifted off to sleep drowning in the sea of feelings and recollections of the world she came from, the world that seemed so far away.

She was jolted back into consciousness by Andrew, said horse tugging on her dress.

"Have you the brain worms?" she murmured groggily, a tad irritated at being roused from her sleep…again. "Whashappenin'?"

Andrew replied with a worried whinny. "I can hear something, my lady. I fear there might be somethi-one out there." He snorted in obvious discomfort.

Sabra quickly rose to her feet, all traces of drowsiness gone. "Are you _sure_ you heard something, Andrew? I wasn't aware horses had such a keen sense of hearing."

Andrew just stamped his front hoof and gave her a look only a horse could. "I would suggest that you hide, my lady Sabra," he suggested pointedly.

"And where should I hide? Under a rock?"

"Up in a tree," Andrew countered, as if it was the most logical hiding place in the world.

Recalling her last two experiences in trees and their…disastrous outcomes, she exclaimed, "Are you crazy, horse?" Deciding not to mention her newly begotten phobia of trees, she started tacking the horse up, if only to humour him.

She heard a branch snap. 'Maybe Andrew _was_ right,' she thought as she hoisted herself into the saddle. She rummaged in the saddle bag for a weapon. Her fingers closed over something she took to be her dagger and she pulled it out, only to find it was…Stubby. Ah well.

She clicked her tongue and pulled Andrew's reins, preparing to ride off into the sunset, or whatever, but they were too slow. A full grown man burst out of the bushes into the clearing, crossbow loaded and (surprise, surprise) pointed at her.

"Do not move." He said in a rumbling voice that sounded somewhat familiar, but she pushed that aside.

The horse and his girl obeyed, but, strangely, the man did not pull the trigger instead dropping the crossbow onto the grass, staring at her in stupefaction.

Sabra took the chance, and pulling her hand back, she launched Stubby at the man with the blessing, "Serve me well, Stubby!"

The man moved his head a fraction to the left and Stubby sailed pass him.

Sabra muttered profanity under her breath.

"What sorcery is this?" she heard him murmur. He walked closer.

"Stay back, I've got another one," she lied.

"It's going to take more than a candle to finish me off, Sabra," he said wryly.

"I mean it, the next one will hit your head – Wait a minute, how do you know my name?" Her eyes widened as something dawned on her. She rummaged in the saddle bag once more and this time her aim was true; an apple connected with his forehead. ("Nice shot, my lady.") "If Peter sent you, you can tell him I'm NOT coming back!"

"Will you quit it, Sabra, it's Zack."

"The Zack I knew wasn't so…old." Strangely, he did actually look a little like her friend. "Prove that you really are who you say you are."

His forefinger was directed at the amulet around her neck. "That amulet is an heirloom of your grandmother's."

"Lucky guess."

"Okayy…Veet then." He shrugged.

"Excuse me?"

"Veet…you stuffed it in that…that girl's shampoo, or conditioner, or whatever."

She still could not believe it. "There's no _way_ you can be Zack."

"How about the time I skateboarded into the library? Don't you remember the librarian dropping 12 sets of dictionaries on my head?" At this he swept up his fringe to reveal a thin streak of a long, but faded scar. (The author realises she is walking a fine line between fandoms now.)

Sabra slid off Andrew ungracefully, and approached the man warily. "Oh my God, you really _are_ Zack." She frowned. "But why are you so old?"

"Perhaps it would be wiser to discuss this when we are safe indoors." Zack said, looking around warily. "We are not entirely safe out here in the forest. There are rumours that there is an army somewhere in Narnia and at its head a man who would stop at nothing to --"

His voice was taking on a storyteller-like tone and she decided that it would be best to interrupt him before he gathered steam. She agreed to go back to his house with him, which was in a small city not far from there. As Zack bent down to pick up his crossbow, Sabra walked a little way into the bushes and bent down, apparently looking for something.

"What are you doing, my lady?" Andrew asked.

She did not say anything, but lifted the newly found Stubby into the air. She caught Zack's questioning look and introduced him to her candlestick. The man chuckled. He had forgotten how Sabra liked to give names to inanimate objects, and pulled her into a bear hug. Sabra, though slightly surprised, returned the gesture thankful to have found him.

They were interrupted by a sound that sounded like a cross between a whinny and a cough from Andrew, who told them both that if they intended to get out of the forest _today_, it would be best if they were to get going. After hurried introductions between the horse and Zack, the three of them, (four, if Stubby was to be counted) made their way out of the forest, towards Zack's home.


	9. An explanation, of sorts

**(A/N)Hi People. If there is anyone actually reading this anymore...Many thanks to Soccer Bitch, Samalamadinddong, and shadow dragon04 for being the only three people who actually reviewed the last chapter...I am depressed at the dwindling number of reviews but the more I get the faster I update ...hint hint...Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer is not able to attend because it has run off with my enthusiasm.**

"Hurry, we must make it back before it becomes dark," Zack urged Sabra and Andrew. "It is not safe after sundown anymore, not even in Archenland."

They trailed behind Zack and his mount, too tired even to speak, following his lead. Not long after, the riders and their horses reached a small village, its people bustling to bring in all their wares, close down their shops and return home before sundown.

It was a quaint village, if anything, its size belying the bustle within. Most of the villagers seemed to know Zack, as they either nodded at him or gave him a wave, sending curious looks toward Sabra and Andrew, both clearly outsiders.

Sabra did her best to ignore these looks, and kept her eyes on Zack, lest he take a sudden turn and she got lost. Even if it was a small town. And she could have asked anyone for directions to Zack's house. She was distracted from her digressions by a child crying out.

"Da!"

Zack laughed as a 5-year-old launched himself into his arms. Sabra raised an eyebrow.

"_Da_?"

"Sabra, meet Tristan, my son. Tristan, this is Sabra. She's an old friend of mine."

The little boy, a splitting image of Zack apart from for his eyes, which were grey-blue, scrutinised Sabra unabashedly. "She don't look old, Da."

"That's because I'm not. Nice to meet you Tristan," she smiled and shook his outstretched hand. "It's good to finally see the spawn of Zack," Sabra added, grinning.

Zack shot her a wry look before setting Tristan on the ground, said five-year-old running into the house. Or cottage, actually. It was the type she would describe as picturesque, if a tad old. A solid structure and a thatched roof completed the scene. She followed Zack into a small barn big enough to accommodate both Andrew and Zack's horse, and was well stocked with hay, which evidently caught Andrew's attention, judging by his delighted whinny. She removed his tack speedily and brushed him down, eager to catch up with Zack, and promised to bring the horse up to speed the next morning.

Sabra followed Zack into the dwelling, narrowly avoiding a pig, and consequently, a broken neck.

Her eyes fell on the green-eyed baby gurgling up at her father, as a woman with waist length black hair looked on. Sabra assumed this was the rest of the family, Zack's wife, whom he introduced to her as Nellie, and daughter Camane.

Zack noticed her standing to the side awkwardly and introduced her to Nellie and Camane, handing her said baby as Nellie excused herself to get dinner ready.

As she stared at the cooing infant in her arms, she felt a twinge of…what? Jealousy? Wistfulness? Yearning for her family? The desire to see her brother again? (Okay, the last one was a little far-fetched, but still.)

"Sabra?" Zack spoke softly, as if aware of his friend's quandary.

_Pull yourself together, Sabra, you ninny_. With some effort, she tore her eyes off Camane and smiled brightly at Zack.

"Let's have that talk over dinner."

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The both of dined privately in Zack's study, Nellie respecting their wishes. They were, after all, old friends who needed to catch up. Even though Sabra looked half Zack's age, if not less.

"So, Zack, how did you come to Narnia?" Sabra went straight to the point after Nellie left them to feed the children.

"Well, it's kind of unexplained, really. You recall Rae and I standing guard while you looked for that amulet?" He pointed at the chain around Sabra's neck, quite needlessly. She nodded.

"Alright. We were looking out for policemen, and the like, when we heard a thud." He hesitated a split second before continuing. "So we went to investigate the sound. And…I felt this…tugging, of sorts. Next thing I knew I was in the same wood I found you, Andrew and Stubby in just now." He smiled, but she could tell it was strained.

"What was the thud-"

Zack cut her off quickly. Odd. "So, I found my way to this village, stole some clothes, got a job, as the apprentice of the previous huntsman, earned money, courted my wife, got married, had kids." He laughed. "I've just summarized the last fifteen years of my life in one sentence."

"What about Rae? Have you heard from her, seen her, anything?"

He frowned, then shook his head; no. "I doubt she even came into Narnia at all. But considering you and I entered this world at the same time on Earth, and different times here, there is a possibility. Maybe she's just late coming."

She snorted. "What would Narnia want with a trio of troublemakers?"

He nodded absently, shredding a slice of bread into fine fibres. She remembered something.

"Zack, what caused the thud sound?" Sabra had a feeling she already knew, but she needed to corroborate it for herself.

It took awhile for him to answer, and when he did, he avoided her eyes. "I, um, was pulled here before I could see what it was."

He was lying, she knew. So she prodded some more. "Tell me, Zack."

Zack decided a change of topic was in order. "What brings you to Archenland anyway?"

So she launched into her tale, starting from Servos and his supposition that she was Lucy, to the events that led her to get away from the camp, and, subsequently, Peter.

He had snorted when she told him of her bat impersonation at Servos' camp, and had laughed outright when he heard her dress had caught fire.

"Yep. You're the same old clumsy Sabra, alright."

Needless to say, Sabra didn't find it as funny as he apparently did.

Sometime between their conversation, they had finished their food. There was a soft knock at the door, and Nellie came in, smiling.

"Tristan and Camane want their Da, Zack." She pecked his cheek and started gathering the plates.

Zack grimaced, and thanked his wife, excusing himself. Sabra leapt to her feet and started to help Nellie, paying no attention to her hostess' protests that she was a guest and need not help.

Sabra grinned at her. "If you have to deal with Zack _and_ his spawn, you deserve help."

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**(A/N) Somebody _please_ review.**  



	10. Zack, and family

**(A/N)** Thanks, guys for all those reviews...especially for pointing out that I hadn't enabled my anonymous review thingy. /looks sheepish/. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring..I was trying to slow things a bit..And there's more Stubby this chapter, too :). He's my friend...Anyway...Enjoy!

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Sabra was never an early riser, even on good days, so it surprised her when she woke up to the sound of a cockerel's crowing and the first of the sun's rays. Needless to say, she was a bit annoyed when she found that she could not go back to sleep. Cursing the cockerel, the sun and the fresh air, she pulled on some of Zack's wife's clothes, as the woman had confiscated all of her travelling clothes, holding them at arms length as she put them in what appeared to be a wash basket.

As she entered the kitchen, she noted grumpily that both her hosts were already up having breakfast. How she hated early risers. At least the children had a bit more normal time table. She envied the fact that they were probably still snuggled up in their warm blankets. As Nellie put a plate of pancakes in front of her, she asked of Tristan.

"Oh, he's outside playing with all the other village children." Zack replied, with his mouth full of pancakes and honey.

Sabra jabbed at her own breakfast. Tristan was hopeless, what kid would be up at this hour? All the children in the village, apparently. She polished off what was on her plate, savouring every bite, and then helped Nellie by washing the dishes. That in itself was a thorny mission; she had to fetch water from the well outside then wash the plates using what probably was a dried out sea sponge and some soap that, according to Nellie, was collected from a nearby riverbank. Compared to dishwashing liquids and scented soaps, the soap she was using for the dishes was pitiable, nothing more than a pulpy mess that foamed very slightly.

By the time she was done washing and drying, Zack had left to sell whatever he had killed yesterday to the village butcher, so Sabra decided to tail Nellie for the rest of the morning, helping her with things around the house when she had to tend to Camane. After lunch though, the woman turned her out of the house saying that she was a guest and was not supposed to be doing housework on the first day of her visit.

So she walked around the village taking in the daily activities of its inhabitants. She waved at Tristan, seeing him with a gaggle of boys and girls his age playing Narnian version of Tag. Briefly she wondered whether they had school. Maybe later on in the day.

She watched as the women beat carpets with sticks to get the dust out, and lay them in the sun. Some sat together, gossiping. If Sabra noticed a few pointing at her or staring at her, she gave no indication. The men were also getting on with their business; the woodcutter was just off to the forest; the Narnian equivalent of a grocer was setting up his wares; and the blacksmith was already attracting a crowd of interested teenagers looking for apprenticeship.

No one hailed her, nor challenged her being there. They didn't stop her to ask for directions, or to ask for her help in some menial task. She was an outsider and they knew it. Hell, she knew it. The only people she knew in this village were Zack and his family. Such a small village was obviously wary of anybody they didn't know. Her dark colouring only contributed to her foreignness. Besides, no one could be _that_ accepting of a stranger. Could one imagine? _Hello, you must be new. Would you like to help me clean the stables? It's fun, really!_

Yes.

She finally decided to enter a tavern that was somewhere around the centre of the village. A hanging sign outside told her it was the 'Gold Coin'. The door was an unattractive shade of yellow, and was peeling. Quite obviously, that was where the tavern got its name from. How very clever.

As she found a seat in the corner at a small table, she realised that she had no money; even the few cents she kept in her pocket of her jeans would be no use to her, if she still wore them. But then again…she noticed that they only served some sort of alcoholic beverage that made her eyes water when a barmaid shoved one under her nose, and so politely declined with a shake of the head and a smile.

Instead she sat back and tried not to be noticed. Quite an easy feat in the dimness of the tavern that belied its name. Her eyes took in the group of males, both young and old, and not all human, hunched over their drinks.

"It ain't safe anymore…Tha' vile Servos, or whatever 'is name is, he's been stirrin' trouble with Narnia…"

One with an eye patch leaned forward eagerly and said, "My Father, he said that it's gonna be a war…much worse than the White Witch."

"Boy, your Father wasn't in tha' war. _I_ was there, an' it was bad. She had them Giants, and they were merciless they were," Obviously a Narnian war veteran, the old faun took a gulp of his beverage.

The rest of the conversation continued in much the same vein, though Sabra did manage to salvage a few gems of information. She left the tavern as soon as it became a little too rowdy for her tastes; probably the Archenland happy hour. The cool night air embraced her as she closed the peeling yellow door behind her, and she was surprised at the amount of time she had spent eavesdropping.

Dinner consisted of some wonderfully baked bread and cold venison. ("It would have been hot if you had come home earlier, Sabra.") All in all it had been a good day, and she fell asleep on the extra cot Zack had set up for her the last night, dreaming wonderful dreams of Stubby, which had been promoted from 'Named Candle Stub' to 'Talking Named Candle Stub'. Though she couldn't for the life of her explain why.

The next day, again, she woke up excruciatingly early, and was greeted by the smell of singed bread. Obviously, Zack still remembered the wonderfulness of toast, although they had no modern-day toasters in Narnia. Obviously. Still, the slightly burnt bread tasted good with the jam Nellie had bought the day before, made of the nectar of some flower native to Archenland. Sabra hadn't really paid attention to Zack's long lecture about the flora and fauna of the place.

And, once again, when Nellie was tired of her puttering around the house, Sabra went back to the Gold Coin to gather information. This routine carried on for the next few days, broken by the occasional stint with Zack or a visit to the grocer's with Nellie, and she even made friends with one or two people around her age. Not too many, most of the village people were still wary of her.

She managed to find out that random Narnian soldiers had been appearing in the Village Square, and were asking for her. Thankfully, the villagers did not know the dark-skinned new girl was called Sabra, and those who did didn't divulge her whereabouts, for which she was grateful. Although it meant she would have to be a whole lot more careful about where she went. Just the last day she had almost been spotted by two Dwarfs and a Faun looking for drinks.

Servos' attacks also seemed on the rise. But he was not fool enough for a direct attack on Peter's army, nor Cair Paravel. Not yet, at any rate. There had been reports of a few of his men (men here not restricted to Sons of Adam) wandering around nearby, but this news went unconfirmed.

In the room she slept in, Sabra turned on her side and closed her eyes. Soon she would have to formulate a plan and stop intruding on Zack's hospitality. Maybe she'd go somewhere warm…and she drifted off to sleep and dreams of Stubby, the Talking Named Candle Stub.

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